thunderclouds and suicide

thunderclouds and suicide

the tigress

[	website	\|	deborah and sanity, floating on the sea	]
[	userinfo	\|	livejournal userinfo	]
[	archive	\|	journal archive	]

(no subject)	[Apr. 25th, 2004\|09:23 pm] the tigress
All right. Odd occurence. EVERYONE IS A FREAKING RETARD. You would have NO idea how many people have asked me, "Why did you stop writing in your diary?" I DIDN'T stop writing. If any of you could read, (and I apologise profusely to those of you who were smart enough to actually FOLLOW the link I posted) I said: "if anyone should wish to hear me bitch, i am here." see that word: "here"? notice how it's in bold? yeah. that means it's a link. (i'm a grammar nazi. i don't write run-on sentences. and i only write retarded sentences with no meaning when i'm writing poetry, and believe me, this is not poetry.) http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit yes, that's the address of my new journal. want it again? http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit perhaps if you didn't catch it (because you didn't before, i mean, i'm just clearing it up here): http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit for those who are sight impaired: http://www.livejournal.com/users/dead_spirit if anyone asks me why i stopped writing i'm going to go on a murderous rampage. good day.
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(no subject)

[Mar. 31st, 2004|07:46 pm]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	crushed	]
[	music	\|	"creep" - radiohead	]

"i want a perfect body,
i want a perfect soul."

if you should wish to hear me bitch, i am here.

i also have a new aim name = tornfabricsoul

see you someday.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 31st, 2004|10:11 am]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	crushed	]
[	music	\|	"crawling" - linkin park	]

listen. i have been getting the general impression via ims, emails and such that everyone is sick of my bitching. as i have nothing to do but bitch, and am often too sunken into this quagmire of shit that my life has become, i am hereby suspending this journal until further notice, which will either be a.) when i get the general idea that people want me to keep writing or b.) i have something happy to say, which i am quite sure i will not for a very long time.

so bye, everyone. see you later or fuck off, depending who you are. you know who you are.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 30th, 2004|09:10 pm]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	cold	]
[	music	\|	"two ladies" - from "cabaret"	]

i need an honest-to-god, sincere, heartfelt and utterly love-filled hug and there is no one here to give me one. so instead, i play the piano. i am tiring of my old songs and am struggling to learn beethoven's sonatina in d.

i spent three hours with six children tonight- at least, five children and one baby. they were all enthralling. children can relieve depression quite well. irritation might take its place, but at least the depression is gone.

and now i am back home and silent, and wondering where the bread knife is.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 30th, 2004|03:47 pm]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	aggravated	]
[	music	\|	"broken down" - sevendust	]

just look at this madness.

sixth grade. i wrote an essay on christmas. i didn't like it. but i had to turn it in. i read it to my teacher. she said, "debbie, you are a great writer!" (i was still debbie then.)
later that day i found out i had won the poetry contest for the high school newspaper. i had cut out a menorah on construction paper and written a line on each of the candles. that day i decided i wanted to be a writer when i grew up.

seventh grade. i wrote my first short story. it was about a girl who is adopted, and everyone in her family is adopted too. it was seven pages long. i got 100 out of 100 points and felt immensely proud of myself.

eighth grade. when i wasn't drawing cartoons or passing notes around class that said "nothing smells worse than... no names please!! add to list!!!" i was daydreaming about attending the university of montana and majoring in english literature. this is because to be a writer, my mother told me, you needed to major in english literature. i didn't have the faintest idea what that was. i just thought you wrote a lot.

ninth grade. i had my first self-crisis. psychology and psychiatry interested me, as well as helping others (go figure) and i debated about changing my major (in my head, of course) to psychology. i had clung to my 'english literature' dream for so long that thinking about anything else seemed like blasphemy, but my mother assured me it was okay. so i decided to become a psychologist.

tenth grade. in the beginning all was quite fab. decided i wanted to go to venezuela. then from january to august of 2000 i went into a huge depression that, in the end, convinced me that if i could barely handle my own problems, i wouldn't be able to handle anyone else's. tossed the idea of psychology. wrote 115 poems in 3 months. most of them were crappy. decided to go to nyu and parade around greenwich village as a beatnik.

eleventh grade. venezuela. looking at the stray dogs all over the place and the mass animal rape occuring every day, i decided to become a veterenarian solely for the purpose of helping stray animals. then it changed to a major in creative writing with a minor in business. then it changed to education. then back to creative writing. then i decided i was going to be a gypsy and never go to school. funny that that keeps surfacing.

twelfth grade. decided to major in art and minor in business, so that i could sell my own stuff. many majors in and out. finally when time came to declare one i put 'theatre'. have no idea to this day what posessed me to do so.

freshman year. theatre, then french, then political science, then elementary education, then medicine. no need to describe there.

sophomore year. so far we've had criminal justice, medicine again, art, biology, and nothing. film was considered.

why the fuck did i just write all this?? god, my mind is gone. i refuse to think anymore. it seriously hurts.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 30th, 2004|10:19 am]

the tigress

[

mood

depressed

]

i should imagine that in these days i appear quite often much younger than i am. wearing the clothes that i do, acting in the manner that i do. i used to think my physical immaturity was apparent in the way i spoke. but i suppose i was wrong.

i am becoming dutiful in mannerisms, sometimes. often, in a crowd of strangers, i will walk, trying to remember to keep my head up, look confident, but when a man passes i will drop my head and look at the ground, resolutely. with women it is different. with most women it is a challenge: i will stare at them until they look away, which most do immediately. but with men my eyes are downcast.

i was feeding the birds today, small brown finches that cavort around the college grounds. i saved bits of tortilla from my lunch and tossed them at the finches, who are funny to watch. they would either fly boldly over and grab the piece of tortilla and then dart away again, or come near me, watching me to see if i were going to move suddenly, and then hop closer and closer, finally reaching the tortilla and then racing away again. i used to wish to entice the birds towards me, to be able to touch them, tame them, but now i am content simply to watch them.

anais inspires me, makes me want to write again. but my thoughts are too fast to pin down, and i lose them before i barely have a chance to acknowledge them. i wish to detail every instance of this cloud i cannot shake, the deep dark recesses of the moldy well that is me. but my memory won't allow it. and neither will time...

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(no subject)

[Mar. 30th, 2004|07:37 am]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	gloomy	]
[	music	\|	"megalomania" - incubus	]

i am in a deep funk this morning. i can't figure out why. it's so bad that it's caused me to wear loose jeans and a roxy t-shirt. name brand jeans. loose ones. does anyone see a problem with this? hint: they are my ugliest jeans. sigh.

i re-read an email from robert by chance this morning: "lo sabes, veo dentro de ti la madre de mis hijos deborah. as long as you exist, je ne sais pas comment cela va changer. i don't wish it to. have a beautiful and creative day."

he is crueler than cruel. and i imagine he does it on purpose. i'm all for expressing opinions but when he spouts bullshit like that, it makes me want to cry. not because it's true. but because it isn't true.

i emailed matt last night in a lovely abrupt letter. he never checks his email so we'll see how many days it takes him to get this one.

oh well. time for blackhead treatment, and then i'm going to force some food down my throat in hopes to ease the severe hunger pains that are sure to come later.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 29th, 2004|10:01 pm]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	stiff	]
[	music	\|	"ye yo" - erykah badu	]

for the record, my period started today. huzzah. much cramping.

matt came over tonight. we watched a movie and not much else. it is beginning to pain me to watch him leave. i need to cut this off immediately. i will not get this shit started again. i don't want it and i don't need it. god damn me and god damn all men!! ALL men!! and yes that includes jesus and hugh grant!!!!!!

i hit the spot just under my ear getting into my car today, on my door's window as the door was open. there is a purple bump there now and it hurts to put any sort of pressure on it. i have the feeling it is going to bring me immense pain tomorrow. why couldn't i just have whacked myself on my temple and been done with it?

i have an entire bottle of coke on my counter and i'm not going to drink it. i hate coke!

my art portfolio is due tomorrow and i'm not going to turn that in either. all my teachers can officially fuck off until further notice.

off to write email to matt. cheerio.

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(no subject)

[Mar. 29th, 2004|10:39 am]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	contemplative	]
[	music	\|	retarded bumpdebump that mr. wifebeater is listening to	]

remember my long, thoroughly incomprehensible rant the other night about how much i hate school?
(if you don't, scroll down. i realise that some of you, like me, have the attention span of an ashtray, but still, this is what computers are here for- to be all we CAN'T be.)
anyway. ahem. about ten o'clock that evening i came downstairs, typed up a two-page letter to my grandmother detailing mostly what i put on here- about how i dislike school, do not want to continue with it, and will major in something like philosophy or latin american studies just to piss everyone off if the insist i continue my education. i have not sent this letter yet, partly because i am lazy and partly because... well, actually, it's just because i'm lazy. but once i do, i may consider myself home free. mostly. all i will have left to do is talk to my father about my decision.
(there is a boy here near me with a grey wifebeater and dirty hair and squishy arms that i pressed my breasts up against as i asked him to turn down his music in hopes that he actually would DO so. he did, about one notch. it makes little diffence and I have no desire to ask him again. once is enough. after that i am going to rip off his headphones and box his ears splendidly.)

anyway.

i have decided that, the day i quit school, which hopefully will be may 15 of this year, i am going to shave my head and purchase a long magnificent wig. the idea of this appeals to me immensely. just imagine the fun you could have with wigs! a different hairstyle every day, and no hassle! to compensate for this obvious indicator of femininity i would wear long dangling earrings and dark eye makeup with very red lipstick. i salivate at the thought.

michelle told me yesterday that the name 'ryan' suited me better than the name 'deborah'. it turns out ryan is a girl's name as well. in a 1990 survey of the most popular names, it ranked 1229th.

well, that's better than abu, which didn't rank at all. ha.

robert has ceased to write frequently and now i am lucky hearing from him once every two weeks. he sent me an updated photo, which i find quite sexy, although i have to admit i liked the longer curly hair more. i just have a thing for curly hair, and it's never going to go away. matt's hair is quite nice, though. he keeps it clean, unlike some men (i no longer deal with boys or guys, simply men) who think it suffices to throw a load of gel on and leave it looking greasy and sick.

this world! it's so interesting. there are so many variations of people, so many different things to look at. ahh. c'est si bon.

i am wearing shoes today, but to compensate i am wearing a gorgeous halter top that covers my breasts (and makes them look quite nice, i might add) and nothing else. i am hoping to balance out the colour on my back, because parts of it are brown from the baseball game on saturday, but everything that was covered up by my tank top isn't.

i am also wearing my overalls. this is odd. i have memories attached to these overalls, and the day i spent buying them.

i dream of montana in the summer. western montana is loveliest in summer, with the lake sparkling and everything very green.

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rant rant rant, my name is rant

[Mar. 27th, 2004|09:19 pm]

the tigress

[	mood	\|	crappy	]
[	music	\|	"my name is khai" - www.y2khai.com under 'videos'	]

oh yes, i forgot to mention. matt gave it up last night and we officially had sex.
i am satiated. heh.

he's very good at what he does. and he adores my body. i haven't the faintest idea why. but hell, if the outcome is favourable i have a tendency not to question the source.

still, i can't imagine any sort of a future with him. i like him, and i love spending time with him, but ... eastwind calls to me. it tugs at me. and matt isn't the type of person who would enjoy that environment. and a person who can't enjoy that type of environment is not one i really want to have a serious relationship with.

i know, i know, beggars can't be choosers. and the sex really is very good.

i don't get it. i beg, i cry, i plead, and now there is a guy who is goodlooking, wealthy, hard-working, successful, ambitious and totally smitten by me, and i'm tossing him off because he's not a hippie?

don't get me wrong. a house in the 'burbs with kids everywhere and ponies in town and PTA meetings also tugs at me. i just think i'm being tugged in different directions.

bah! marriage is a long way off. i have to graduate first.

speaking of graduation, i wish there was a way to make it clear to my family that i am only attaining my bachelor's degree to please them. i swear to god that is the only reason. once i graduate i am either getting married, or heading off to live at eastwind, and if, for some reason, i decide to do neither, then i will be doing something as equally unproductive to society, like becoming a bum, or bicycling to miami, or moving to france to shiver over a weak heater and try to write novels. i might as well toss the piece of paper away. let me make it clear again: i. am. not. going. to use. my bachelor's degree. my destiny in life is as a nomad or a housewife. a vagrant. a bum. a loiterer, a peasant. the thought of earning $40,000 a year does not please me. likewise, the thought of working at a place as downscale as mcdonald's does not displease me, if it was a necessity. in life, i want to write, raise kids, grow herbs, please my husband. nothing too fancy.

so here comes the question: if i'm not going to use it, why get it? sure, i'll have it to fall back on in dire circumstances.

arby's manager: you say here you've graduated college?
me: yes sir. i have a bachelor's degree in journalism.
arby's manager: that's nice. we have a night shift open starting at $5.50 per hour.
me: golly!

seriously. i hate school! i want a simple life. why my parents cannot accept that is beyond me. my mother can, i know. but my grandmother and my father? while holding their tongues, i know they would be upset. in general i do not like pissing my family off, even though i do it constantly.

sigh. nikki's getting married in july. i have to be there. that means plane fare.

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